I’ve been thinking a lot lately about control. The things I can control. The things I can’t. Recently, I told Chad that my brain feels like a big ball of yarn all tangled up with the things that I’m trying to figure out. (read: wishing I could control.) Unfortunately, I am all too aware that there are so many things in life that I just can’t control.
I can’t control that life is changing, all too quickly, right before my eyes.
I can’t control how people think/feel about me.
I can’t control the number of days I have.
I can’t control the weather.
I can’t control the number of hours in a day.
I can’t control that spiders sometimes get into my house.
I can’t control that tourist in my community often drive slower than the spider creeping up my basement wall.
control stop my kids from growing . (That one kills me.)
I can’t control the future.
I can’t know what the future holds.
As I was musing all of this to my husband-therapist this week, I told him I just wanted to untangle the mess. I wanted to figure it all out. I want to see and know that everything is going to be okay. And once I get it figured out I can tie the strings in a neat little bow (single knotted, of course) and set them on the shelf and simply admire them.
Of course, life doesn’t work that way. There are so many things I can’t control and there are days when that thought nearly paralyzes me.
Every now and then, though, in the midst of quiet there is a moment of clarity. The truth hits me with such force it nearly takes my breath away. While there are so many things I can’t control, there are many that I can.
Today, I’m focusing on what I can control.
I can practice gratitude. Daily.
I can pick up a good book. (Currently, this one.)
I can turn off the news.
I can hug my little people.
I can close out of Facebook.
I can close my eyes and breathe in deep on the fresh air.
I can step outside at night and look up at the stars.
I can say Thank You. Often.
I can laugh at/with my goofy husband-therapist.
I can lace up my running shoes and feel my feet hit the pavement.
I can practice authenticity.
I can invest in people.
I can celebrate the little things. (Meadow tied her shoe this week. Yay!)
I can text a friend–just because.
I can feel the weight of Meadow’s hand as it rests in my own.
I can offer grace. To myself. To others.
This is just the beginning, I suspect. The beginning of a list that will continue to grow as I open up my eyes and journey into a year of transition. I know I can’t know what the future holds, but certainly, I can find beauty and joy in the midst of it.
On that note, around here. . .
We’ve been enjoying some unseasonably warm weather, recently.
Tiny glimpses of the summer months that will soon arrive when days are longer and times passes without notice. . .
These days are treasures for Ohioans who usually bunker down and suffer a loss of Vitamin D during the long winter months. . .
A far cry from the scene just two weeks ago. . .
My inner countdown of these days with Meadow at home have begun. (Okay, the grief-filled countdown began two years ago.) Right or wrong, these days with Meadow have been different than my years with my older kids. Maybe it’s because I’m older and I understand how fleeting it all is, or perhaps it’s simply because it’s just the two of us. Either way, these years are treasures that I will carry with me, always. . .
And while I don’t know (and can’t control) what the future holds, I trust that it will be good. . .
Thank you for stopping by, Friends.